


Just Can't Stay Away From You

by PinkPandorafrog



Series: Words, Words, Words [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-07-13 22:17:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7139816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkPandorafrog/pseuds/PinkPandorafrog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darcy first met her soulmate years ago when she traveled back in time. She can't seem to stop running into him, and it hurts a little more each time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Can't Stay Away From You

Darcy smelled him before she saw him, the distinctive spice of his cologne mixed with his shitty cigars that hadn't changed in the last 70 years. Maybe ever. Her fingers tightened around the edge of the coffee counter, her eyes falling closed.

He was close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off of him even through the denim jacket he was no doubt wearing. Something about his abilities made him run a little hotter than normal. “Hey, darlin',” came the low growl, directly in her ear.

A chill chased its way down her spine, and it took everything in her not to respond to him. It would be so easy to lean herself against him, press her back against the length of his chest. “What are you doing here, Logan?”

“Something to drink, same as you.” The promise in his voice was dark, rich, pulling at wisps of memories.

“What, you remember me this time?” It was hard not to throw that in his face. It wasn't his fault, she  _ knew _ it wasn't his fault, but... Didn't make it hurt any less.

The edge of his jacket brushed against her shoulder blade, and she dug her fingernails into the cheap wood to keep from pressing back against him. It would be too easy. “Don't be like that.”

“Don't be like what?” She did turn around now, looking into his dark eyes. He was close enough that her breasts brushed against his chest, but she refused to back down from him. She rested her hands on her hips, eyes narrowing into a glare. It was impossible not to appreciate his height, glaring was much more effective when she didn't have to crane her head back to make eye contact. That was the only thing it was good for, of course.  _ Liar _ , her memories taunted her.

“This.” A smirk crossed his face as he studied her.

She heard the barista call her name, it sounded like from so far away. She was just turning to reach for her coffee, but Logan easily got there first.

He held it up between them, ignoring the heat that had to be searing against his bare hand. “Come for a ride with me.”

Darcy knew she should say no. She absolutely knew better. She knew exactly where this would lead, where it lead every fucking time despite how different she promised herself it would be  _ this time _ . “Why? Are you running away again?”

The amusement fled from his face, his mouth falling into a very familiar scowl. “Not running, darlin'.”

“That's what you always say. I don't think Charles believes you anymore than I do.” She pulled her phone out of her pocket and made a show of checking it. “Should I call him? Does he even know yet? This time, I mean.”

He plucked the phone neatly out of her hand and slipped it back into her pocket, letting his fingers linger against her. She could feel the heat of his skin practically searing her through the fabric of her skirt, and she sucked in a gasp. There was a gleam in his eyes at the noise. Yeah, he definitely remembered something. “Come on.”

She could say no. Fuck, she  _ should _ say no. But she nodded as she took the coffee from him.

She was unsurprised when Logan bought himself a bottle of whatever imported beer the coffee shop had for sale in their cooler and tucked it away into his jacket. Normally she had a pretty strict no-riding-with-drinking-people personal rule, but he'd metabolize the alcohol before it even had a chance of affecting him.

He led the way towards the door, pulled it open and held it easily to let her slip outside first. She waited on the sidewalk for him. It wouldn't be hard to find his bike, she still remembered what it looked like, but waiting was the polite thing. Or it gave her a chance to try and calm the butterflies that were starting to swirl around in her stomach. Whatever.

“You gonna call in?” he asked, pulling off his jacket and helping her put it on. His shoulders were broader, but her hips were wider, and she knew it wouldn't quite close.

“No. We're just going for a ride.” Denial was working out pretty well.

He smirked again as he reached into the jacket's breast pocket and pulled out his sunglasses, sending a tingle through her that she did her level best to ignore.  _ Darcy _ got the helmet, of course, and in fairly short order she was pressed up against his back with her arms around him, one hand tightly clutching her coffee. She wasn't sure why she was bothering bringing it, it'd be cold and gross by the time they stopped, anyway.

He drove. She closed her eyes and rested her head against his back, feeling the wind on her face, breathing in the smell that would always mean Logan to her.  _ Home. _ She didn't know where they were going, didn't really care. It didn't really matter anyway.

She was chilly by the time they stopped. They were out on some back road somewhere. She wasn't entirely surprised, it was either going to be this or a shitty motel somewhere. Maybe Logan was pretending that the inevitable wasn't going to happen, too.

She set the coffee down on the gravel beside her foot, then braced herself against his shoulders to climb off the bike. Her hips were a little stiff from having sat like that for so long, protesting a little as she pushed herself to her feet.

He climbed off as well, pulling the jacket open just as she was clutching it closed and taking out a cigar.

Darcy snatched it from him just as soon as he put it in his mouth, tossing it over her shoulder and giving him a challenging glare. There was a brief pang of guilt about littering, but it didn't last long.

He gave her a look, one eyebrow quirking just a little. “You know that shit won't kill me, right?”

She folded her arms under her breasts. “Makes you taste like an ashtray.”

He grinned. “Can't argue with that, I guess.” He pulled the jacket open again, this time coming out with the beer. He cracked it and tossed the cap down before offering it to her.

She looked at it for a moment, then took it with a sigh and had a long drink. “How do you always know how to find me?” She handed it back to him.

He took it and had a long drink, seeming to think over his answer. “You probably know better than I do.”

The first time they'd met had been during World War II. She'd been lost in time, and he'd been in the Canadian armed forces. They'd met somewhere in France and had gotten to know each other quite quickly.

The next time, he hadn't remembered her. Sometime in the '70s, introduced through Charles. That had stung a little, but not nearly as much as the next time when he'd let her into Charles' mansion just last year. Yeah, after everything that had happened, that one had hurt.

“If I knew how, I'd probably stop you.” She gave him a long look.

He shrugged, lifting the bottle to her in salute before having another drink. She was almost surprised that he didn't argue. Almost. “Something in you pulls at me, darlin'.”

“That's what she said,” Darcy answered without really thinking.

In a flash, she was somehow pressed against the rough bark of a tree, Logan's hand hot against her hip. “That so?” He moved entirely too fast.

She wanted to argue, to push him away, to tell him to go fuck himself. It was on the tip of her tongue, she could almost taste it. Instead, she leaned forward the couple of inches that separated them, her lips falling against his. He tasted like the beer they'd shared and the hint of his cigars that he could never quite shake. She knew he'd shaved recently, but his stubble still prickled against her chin as their mouths moved together.

His hand slid down the back of her thigh, pulling it up to hike around his hip as he fitted himself between her legs. She made a brief noise, her fingers closing in the front of his plaid flannel shirt. Tongues teased and danced, she could feel the rapid thump of his heart under her breasts.

His lips slipped away from hers, making a hot trail down the side of her neck. She let her head fall back against the tree, his fingers threading back into the thickness of his dark hair. Remember her or not, no one knew how to find the spot that made her  _ gasp _ quite like Logan did, the edge of his teeth scraping along her delicate flesh.

He nipped at her until she was letting out breathy, encouraging noises. Thrills of heat jolted straight down between her legs. She could feel him hard against the front of his jeans, couldn't stop from grinding against him until he let out a low growl.

A shiver chased down her spine, puckered her nipples against the satiny fabric of her bra. “James-” The name slipped out unbidden, conjured up from the depths of her memories.

He paused for a moment, his chest heaving against hers. “Hurts to be called another man's name when I'm halfway to Heaven, here.”

She wrenched away from him, knocking the back of her head painfully against the tree as she pulled away. “Fuck you, Logan.” She rubbed at the tender spot as she tried to catch her breath, feeling exposed, raw. “Fuck you.” She hated feeling like this, hated it every single time she saw him.

“What I'm trying to do.” His hands caught on her hips, turning her away from him and pressing her between him and the tree. “Why do you do this to me?”

Hot tears stung in her eyes as she closed them. She let her forehead rest against the rough bark of the tree, taking a deep breath to steady herself. The tree was steady, solid, an anchor under her gripping fingers. “You know why.”

His hands caught in her skirt, pulling it up over her hips. Large thumbs hooked in the sides of her tights, pulling them and her panties down about halfway down her thighs. She heard his reaction as he saw it, felt the rough swipe of the calluses on his thumb as he traced over the line of script just over her left ass cheek.  _ Sergeant James Howlett, ma'am. _ “Darcy...” He never used her name, and that made it hurt somehow more.

“Just like this, Logan. Just like this. Back of a base in France. You hiked my skirt up, tore my nylons off-” her words broke off in a high cry as one blunt finger slid up deep into her pussy. She was ready for him, hot, slick. “Fuck! Just like this. Fuck you!” She balled up her fist, banged it against the tree.

Darcy heard him fumble with his belt, the teeth of his zipper as he pulled them down. She was shaking her head, arching her back out for him, moving against him as he pumped his finger in and out of her. “James!” came out on a wail as his finger hooked over that one perfect spot.

“Don't call me that!” he growled, slipping his finger free. She felt the wide head of his cock nudging against her cunt, pushed back against him, pulling him inside. “God damn-”

Logan slid home in one long thrust, making her teeth catch around her lower lip. The familiar stretch was so good, so right. Almost immediately, his hand came down in front of her, fingers circling over her clit in time with each rough snap of his hips.

His nose buried in the back of her hair, she heard him take a deep breath in. Her back was arched as much as she could. The angle wasn't deep, but every surge forward bumped the the head of his shaft against that one perfect spot until she was swearing almost continuously.

The growl that rose up from the depths of his chest as she clenched around him vibrated through her. It was almost too much, so much sensation that it almost hurt, but she welcomed it.

He drove into her over and over, until she was hoarse, her legs wooden as she leaned heavily against the tree. At last he stiffened, she felt the wet pulse of his own release.

He pulled away almost right away, leaving her bare-assed and suddenly cold in what had apparently turned into evening while they'd been... occupied. She could feel him looking at her for a moment, and then the noise of his bike.

She waited until it died away. Her eyes were wet, fresh hot tears leaking down the sides of her face. She swiped them away with the sleeve of his jacket. Her phone was still in her pocket, she'd need that. At least Charles never judged her. He'd send the X-Jet, would hug her, wouldn't ask any questions. At least not until she wanted him to.


End file.
